


It's All Painfully Real Lol

by Bittergum



Category: Hiveswap
Genre: Depression, Mental Health Issues, No spell check we die like dumbasses, Projection, Rambling, i literally don't know what to tag this as, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 03:40:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20846927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittergum/pseuds/Bittergum
Summary: So I've been like... big time depressed for the last few months. Not showering, not eating, hair falling out... like, everything that isn't self harm/hating on myself (so it's not totally awful lmao). I'm starting anti-depressants now, they aren't really working yet but they will in a few weeks, probably. Gotta stick with em lmao.I have... a BUNCH of depressed Cirava fics. From all of my nights sitting awake on my phone, rambling and projecting my own experiences onto a blank google docs document. I didn't even realize how bad everything had gotten until now, and honestly, going back and reading some of these make me go "wow how didn't I realize how bad off I am until now." Maybe I'll post more at some point, but until then, here's something I wrote while having a bit of a moment in the computer room at college lol.Idk what else to say lmao I'm rlly tired right now lol





	It's All Painfully Real Lol

You woke up hours ago, but you can’t get out of your recupracoon yet. It’s too warm, too soft, and your body hurts so much… an hour later, you have the same issue. You can barely even look at your Chittr- too many people (one person) replied to you, and the idea of trying to even like what they said feels overwhelming. Your stomach has been rumbling for the last few hours, so you finally force yourself up at around 12am. 

It’s too late to take your meds, you think. You haven’t woken up in time to take them for a long time. Your head spins when you think about it. 

You put on the outfit you’ve been wearing all week. It kind of smells, but you can’t bring yourself to wash it. It’s one of the only things you can wear that doesn’t make you insanely anxious, despite looking like everything else you own. It’s not like you’re even leaving your hive today, but still… you can’t. You want to wear this outfit, stains and smells and all. 

Your hair is thick with grime and dry shampoo, so much so that your scalp itches. You consider washing it quickly before breakfast. You only consider it.

Breakfast takes another hour from the few that remain of the night, and all you eat is a bowl of cereal. Your hair feels heavy the whole time. You can’t stop thinking about it, or how annoyingly long your nails have gotten. There’s dirt up underneath all of them, how it got there is anybody’s guess, and you clean them with a fork that's been sitting out for the last few days, dirty from a meal you can’t remember. It doesn’t get everything, and you almost break skin obsessing over it. 

You lean over the trap to wash your hair. You hate to think about how long it’s been since you actually got in and washed your whole body, so you don’t think about it. Hair tangles around your fingers as you scrub, and the amount you wash out never gets any less than the handfuls from previous showers. Where is it all coming from? Your hair certainly isn’t any thinner than when it started falling out in abundance like this. Maybe it’s ok. Your nails are clean afterwards, the chipped ends smoothed down, but not any less painful when you test just how smooth.

You sit on the couch for a long time. You should turn the tv on. Throw a rerun of any old sitcom on while you… maybe play a game? But you keep spacing out. It’s so quiet. You can barely concentrate. Eventually, you turn it on, about half an hour after you initially planned to. You play an old game you beat forever ago and laugh at the same jokes you’ve heard at least ten times over, but you still feel anxious.

It’s so bad that your pusher feels like lead. Each pump hurts, like it’s tangled in physical webs of anxiety. What do you have to be anxious about? You have no responsibilities you need to get to. You still feel like you aren’t doing enough. 

You look at your computer. You could stream. You think about the reply you still haven’t liked. You put your phone down and start playing again.

Two hours later, you open up Chittr. It’s a reply from a… very dedicated fan. You kind of hate him. You’ve considered blocking him on so many occasions, but he’d probably just whine about you behind your back, or make a new account to refollow you. As much as you hate him, you weren’t ready to alienate what little fanbase you had left. You hated how dependant you were. You ignore it and announce a stream. 

It’s just you fucking around with an old game on an emulator you have. There’s no dialogue, so you don’t have to read anything but the chat. The chat… isn’t super great. Yeah, there’s quite a bit of fans being nice and you enjoy talking to them, but there’s also that creepy guy from Chittr. “Did you see my tweet???” You say no, then go and like it, forcing a laugh. Your skin crawls. Your anxiety is back full force. 

Each “lmao u still stream?” gets under your skin much more than it should. A few randos bring up the incident. You say nothing. You mess up several times, wasting all your lives. You’re hungry. Goosebumps litter your skin.

“Hey guys,” you say. “I’m getting pretty hungry, I think I’m gonna grab some dinner lmao. Thanks for coming to the stream.”

You shut it down without reading the chat. You feel so much more drained than you did beforehand. Why did you do that.

Despite being hungry, you can’t choose what you want to eat. You want some nasty fast food, but you don’t feel remotely ok enough to talk to even a delivery drone. You grab something sugary and disgusting from the cabinet and eat it on the couch. Each bite that settles in your stomach makes you want to barf. Food is disgusting. Your skin crawls. You keep watching TV.

Your body feels heavy as you get up to turn in for the day. It’s nearly 11 in the morning, and you were… so tired. You shed your dirty clothes and slide into the equally nasty sopor slime that’s been sitting there for a couple of months without being changed. It kind of stinks. You get used to it and close your eyes.

You can’t fall asleep until around 1 or 2 in the afternoon. It’s restless, you’re tossing and turning the whole time. You wake up early the next day, familiar, stiff pain all over your body. You continue floating in your slime for the next few hours, and your day goes like the one before it, like the hundred before it. You don’t even think about the friends you haven’t seen in nearly half a sweep.

Your skin feels like wax. Your insides feel like ground meat. You feel like you’re dying. You don’t realize how bad everything has gotten.

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been like... big time depressed for the last few months. Not showering, not eating, hair falling out... like, everything that isn't self harm/hating on myself (so it's not totally awful lmao). I'm starting anti-depressants now, they aren't really working yet but they will in a few weeks, probably. Gotta stick with em lmao.  
I have... a BUNCH of depressed Cirava fics. From all of my nights sitting awake on my phone, rambling and projecting my own experiences onto a blank google docs document. I didn't even realize how bad everything had gotten until now, and honestly, going back and reading some of these make me go "wow how didn't I realize how bad off I am until now." Maybe I'll post more at some point, but until then, here's something I wrote while having a bit of a moment in the computer room at college lol.  
Idk what else to say lmao I'm rlly tired right now lol


End file.
